


Rave Atlantis: Mirror Five

by Reccea



Series: Rave Atlantis (by Smittywing) [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-15
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney leans back against the wall and just watches as John slides nimble fingers up her neck, and rocks his hips into her without every really touching her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rave Atlantis: Mirror Five

**Author's Note:**

> The Rave Atlantis story is all 's and she's nice enough to let me play with it.

If Cadman stands at the exact right spot on the dance floor then the acoustics of the Room allow Rodney to hear everything she's saying from his little alcove. Rodney told her about it, right before the Room was opened to the public because he knew that voyeurism was a powerful kink and he didn't want to let the single best aspect of the room he'd carefully selected go to waste.

He didn't really think he'd ever have cause to use it himself. Looking back, Rodney feels that perhaps he'd been a little unimaginative. He comforts himself and his slightly bruised ego with the fact that probably no one in their right mind would have ever guessed that the John Sheppard who revealed next to nothing about himself or his history would actually engage in semi-lascivious acts in front of a full quarter of the expedition.

Rodney didn't just underestimate his own kinks it seems.

It makes Cadman's choice of dance spot just that more frustrating. She's about five feet off from acoustical ground zero and she's smiling like she knows exactly what Rodney's thinking. She probably does. Rodney doesn't really make a habit of hiding it when he's unhappy with the results he's getting.

John's dancing with her, legs moving to the fast beat like they were born to it. Rodney envies the grace but he doesn't mind watching it in action. The song is a remake and Rodney can see John mouthing the words of the chorus for just a moment until Cadman turns and says something.

Rodney can't see Cadman's mouth all that well, especially not once they twist to the right but he can see John's. He watches the way he smirks, says something that Rodney doesn't quite catch and pulls Cadman a little closer.

Cadman tucks herself in, ear to John's mouth and Rodney sees her hands move, guiding John to turn a little more so that Rodney can see his mouth all the way, see the words form as they come out.

Rodney's officially torn on whether or not telling Cadman that he can read lips is a source of regret. It could go either way, really, especially if Cadman really is doing this on purpose. Rodney knows that she saw him walk in, and he knows exactly what her sense of humor is like. Rodney would put money down on the fact that she absolutely has a plan.

John spreads one hand over her hip, fingers spaced wide, but the other he slides up her back to brush against the edge of her hair. He slips one leg between hers, but not too far because Rodney can't see his knee. He's looking at something, off towards the door, or maybe he's just not looking at anything in particular. Sheppard's tricky enough that Rodney can't be sure.

And then John starts talking.

He's telling a story, as far as Rodney can gather. It's just that every couple of words the rhythm of the song forces John to move in a way that just blocks Rodney's view. There's something said about a club just like this one, which Rodney isn't particularly surprised by. People like John Sheppard probably felt at home in places like this.

Cadman's being all smiles and encouragement which has ceased to be surprising to Rodney. He's got her figured out. She likes to walk the line between action and voyeurism, to straddle the distance between flirtation and sex. It's something Rodney admires because he's always been the kind of guy who plows right through all the limits without appreciating their beauty.

John's talking about dancing and light and alcohol. It looks a little garbled and Rodney knows he's getting some of it wrong, but he has the general idea which, thank you, is more than enough to make him wish he'd worn a looser shirt. He needs to do something about the environmental controls in here.

Rodney recognizes the word "fuck" from fifty paces but he doesn't recognize the look on John's face when he says it. John's mouth sliding into a slow smile, his eyes heavy lidded. Rodney leans back against the wall and just watches as John slides nimble fingers up her neck, and rocks his hips into her without every really touching her.

It's a kind of grace that Rodney will never have, doesn't covet, but wants to taste. If he could feel the snap of that body Rodney thinks he could decipher what it all really means.

Laura runs a hand down his back, nails pulling pleats into the shirt as she goes. She has that full smile which means she wants to laugh, but it's the good laugh, the throaty one that makes Rodney want to touch her in ways he isn't allowed.

They move through the space and the one snatch of words Rodney can hear is John saying "Loved," and Laura's murmured, "yes," in reply.

It makes his back go rigid, the muscles in his thighs clench because whatever he thought they'd been saying, he was mistaken. Or else he was reading all the wrong words.

Cadman pivots, angling her body ever closer but her hair's behind her shoulder so he has a clear shot of her mouth when she says "Rodney?" her chin tilting with the question.

For a split second John has his mouth towards Rodney, lips open and still. But when he replies to Cadman's question his back is to Rodney and the only thing Rodney knows is the tight set of his shoulders and the stillness in his hips.

Before Atlantis Rodney had been a voyeur in name and deed. He was content to know a thing without ever touching the face of it. An expert in 'gate technology without ever once having it bloom open before him.

Before Atlantis Rodney had been a man of theory.

But he works with his hands now, works in the field. He knows the ways and means of interaction, the cost of touch and weight. He understands want on the visceral level of needing to hold it in his hands. He has gone out to not only see but partake, touch, enact. Rodney has been transformed into a part of the universe he manipulates, not a distant observer.

The acoustics are the single best feature of the room he selected, the most elegant collision of art and desire. But standing in this little perfect place of viewing Rodney doesn't feel any of the things he thought he would. He doesn't feel any of the satisfaction of knowing from a distance.

Cadman has her hand tangled in John's ridiculous hair, listening to some almost forgotten tale of youthful indiscretion and maybe something else. She is alive in ways Rodney is just learning. But he's a genius, after all, so he knows he'll catch on. There's an opening here and even if he can't read Sheppard's body language half as well as he can read the man's lips Rodney can still see that there's something about his name that changes John Sheppard.

Rodney can see now that the introduction of his name has changed the interaction between them. Rodney is an unexpected variable. But he has been that since the moment he stepped off world at Sheppard's side. Rodney isn't content to be an independent observer, a theoretical physicist. Rodney is a man of science now in the most tangible, concrete sense. He is a man of touch and maybe even of action.

Atlantis has spoiled him for anything less.


End file.
